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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28628154">Like a pebble in the shoe</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoesiapie/pseuds/Zoesiapie'>Zoesiapie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Distance, F/M, Fremione - Freeform, Happy Ending, I'm Sorry, Love, Quite Angst, Secret Relationship, TWO IDIOTS, They are just denying, but cute, but it's love, love them so much, really - Freeform, so love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:02:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,746</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28628154</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoesiapie/pseuds/Zoesiapie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Her legs shake when Fred stands in front of her on patrol. They stare at each other for a few seconds, breathless, but with a thousand words to say. They stand studying each other, illuminated by the light from the moonlight coming through the window, hoping not to forget that tense moment.<br/>Then, the pebble under Hermione's foot sticks in her flesh again, when they can't stop their desire, dragging themselves hungrily toward the Room of Requirement. One last time, just the one.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. One last time, before taking flight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            A translation of

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/739485">Come un sassolino nella scarpa</a> by Sia_.
        </li>

    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione, at least until her fifth year, never had that pebble in her shoe that makes everything uncomfortable. Before then she was running, running to good grades, to her friends, to a simple - admittedly busy - life. Then one day, trying too hard, the pebble had entered her shoe, and it had never left her since.</p><p>She sighs, closing the <em>Transfiguration</em> book in front of her, aware that she can't study in that situation, not with her mind full of thoughts, questions and... useless hopes? She looks up, then runs a hand through her curled hair, shifting her gaze to the landscape behind the glass window: the trees are already taking on a vivid color, while the first flowers are sprouting in the meadows. And the more leaves grow, she thinks, the less time she has.</p><p>Because she always knew it would be fleeting, stupid, imperceptible. It would have passed, as everything passes: an avalanche, that sooner or later, at the end of its rope, stops in front of a small obstacle. They had both decided it, aware of not being able to shape time under their hands, aware of not wanting to tell anyone, because it was different, strange, new. And they liked it that way.</p><p>Hermione struggles to bring her mind back to reality, stopping a lock behind her ear and picking up the books scattered around the library table.</p><p>The point is, beyond awareness, she now feels it the pebble in her shoe, boring into her: she tells herself to move on, that it disappears, but the pain, with each step, is more and more stinging. Fred likewise, as he kisses her, is stinging.<br/> </p><p> <br/>§</p><p><br/> <br/>At dinner, Hermione looks up at him only once, perhaps to fix in her mind the color of his hair seen from a distance or to make sure he hasn't left yet.</p><p> <br/><em>"I'll be gone in a few days," he whispers, kissing her bare back, hugging her hips with his hands to keep her from running away. But it wouldn't do any good; she, away from him, would never be well.</em></p><p> <br/>Fred, feeling the girl's pressing gaze on his body, turns to smile at her. And it is a smile full of apologies, full of suffering, of speeches left unfinished. A smile full of kisses that will never come. They don't take their eyes off, as a spark strikes their body for the umpteenth time, making them feel alive, invincible, eternal. And Hermione knows it, even in love. But she can't tell him, doesn't want to tell him: he'd leave anyway.</p><p>Ron calls her attention to it, asking her to show him the <em>Transfiguration</em> assignment, just to make sure he's not writing something stupid, yet again. But Hermione denies it, improvising a smile: how can she make him copy a blank sheet of paper?</p><p> </p><p>§</p><p> </p><p>Her legs shake when Fred stands in front of her on patrol. They stare at each other for a few seconds, breathless, but with a thousand words to say. They stand studying each other, illuminated by the moonlight coming through the window, hoping not to forget that tense moment. <br/>Then, the pebble under Hermione's foot sticks in her flesh again, when they can't stop their desire, dragging themselves hungrily toward the Room of Requirement. One last time, just the one.</p><p>They kiss, again, like it's never happened before. Their tongues give each other no rest, in withdrawal, yearning for more. Fred runs one hand through her hair, while with the other he begins to unbutton her shirt, one at a time, slowly, running his fingers over her newly exposed skin. Hermione sighs on her lips, imitating those gestures, to touch her twin's outlined chest, drawing small concentric circles on his abdomen, causing him too to shiver down his spine.</p><p>He pushes her onto the couch, appearing behind them, caressing her legs, creeping under her skirt, tickling her inner thigh as well. She, her mind clouded, arches toward him, to taste his lips once more, beginning to leave imperceptible hot kisses on his neck, moving down to his chest. Fred, intoxicated, removes his shirt, soon denuding her as well.</p><p>He looks down at Hermione who, unembarrassed, challenges him with her gaze. He smiles at her, touching her left breast, caressing her flat stomach, going lower and lower until he reaches the hem of her skirt.</p><p>She smiles too, grabbing him by the hips, switching their positions. From above, she can get a better look at the boy's abdomen, lowering and raising quickly, at the same pace as his crazy, drunken heart. She runs her finger over his chest, tickling his belly button, until she suddenly slips her hand under his pants, forcing Fred to temper a sigh.</p><p>"Come here" he whispers, kissing her lips, as she makes her own body cling to the boy's, feeling alive again, soaring, happy. Hermione's hand, clumsy under the fabric, is soon benefited as her pants end up on the floor with a kick, along with her skirt and underwear.</p><p>Fred engages his fingers as well, paying attention to Hermione, who eagerly thrusts toward him the moment he touches her. The kisses, between them, do not stop: they mingle among the bites, among the sighs, among the dissipated cries. They lose themselves for good, in that secret dance they love so much, burning with a passion that is all too repressed.</p><p>Hermione begins to drown more and more in oblivion, wanting to take him with her to hear his laughter every minute, his hot kisses, his expert hands, which continue to give her, every moment, more and more pleasure.</p><p>Fred stops kissing her, moistening the girl's nipple, taking a few bites, to hear her sigh out loud, unable to shut up, certainly not as she arches toward him, her face reddened, seared by his touch, intoxicated by his presence, lost in the hope that he will never pull away, to remain in that intoxication forever. He indulges her, silencing her cry with a kiss, slipping easily into her, resting his hands on either side of Hermione's face to help with the first slow and then faster and faster movement.</p><p>And they both abandon themselves, lost in a maze with no exit, from which neither of them would want to leave anyway, since they are fine together. Because Hermione, when she has him by her side, has the lightest heart, her head is free of thoughts and Fred, looking at her, feels at home.</p><p><br/>§</p><p><br/> <br/>Fred's hands are still playing with Hermione's ringlets, when she decides to leave the last kiss on his lips, begging for mercy for her heart, for her soul, feeding on the forbidden fruit, wanting to remember the taste for the rest of her life.</p><p>"Smile at me" he asks her, taking her face in his hands, to imprint that expression on her mind.</p><p>"You're being dishonest."</p><p>"I know, but I really want to see your smile." Fred rests his forehead against the girl's, then letting her have a quick kiss and pressing his body against hers.</p><p>"I can't smile, not now, not like this" Hermione whispers, narrowing her eyes as his pulse cradles her, tirelessly, for the last time.</p><p> <br/>§</p><p><br/> <br/>Hermione's gaze follows Fred's broom take flight with a strange grip on her heart: <em>is it over?</em> She lowers her eyes, trying to stay grounded, pretending to be strong.</p><p>Ron, at her side, tells her to read the writing in the sky, which is a spectacular thing. But none of those fireworks are spectacular.</p><p>Spectacular are the ones that burst in her stomach when Fred's lips touch her mouth, or when his hands draw little marks on her body. Spectacular is Fred, not his signature in the sky.</p><p>She nods anyway, pretending to laugh, searching with her eyes for the figure of her tormentor, now more and more distant, but still too present, pressing, <em>like a pebble in her shoe</em>.</p><p> </p><p><br/> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 2. Five Galleons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Hey, do you know that I had a secret relationship with Granger for all of fifth year and I still can't get over it? Because I know that if I look into her eyes, I'll only want to kiss her and that's why I'm pretending that mom isn't writing to us, that Harry hasn't arrived, and that you, right now, aren't reminding me of anything," he thinks, drinking all in one go the water George brought him a little earlier.</p><p>"When do you want to go?" he struggles to ask, pushing Hermione back into the innermost part of his mind, where she had only been locked away for a few days after his departure from Hogwarts.</p><p>"Tomorrow?"</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione stares tirelessly at the resealed envelope in her hands, while her heart is still pounding. Having gotten ten Exceeds Expectations and an Outstanding one is getting to her head, preventing her from moving.</p><p>And suddenly, it comes back to her that the only one she'd really like to tell is Fred: she'd like to go to him, smiling, showing him she's been perfect as usual, despite his instigation, his kisses and his mere presence.</p><p>I did it, this she would like to tell him, just to find an excuse to talk to him. Because there hadn't been any, since that time in the Room of Requirement, not even a single glance. As agreed, on the other hand: once the twins' last year at Hogwarts was over, they would stop looking for each other, as if it had never happened, because it was madness, an uncontrolled, stupid desire.</p><p>She closes the envelope in the drawer of her bedside table, sinking into her bed, forcing her mind to shut up, not to try in the least to fill it up again with images of his smile, his hair, and those magnetic eyes that, she thanks, she has yet to see wandering around the Burrow since she arrived.</p><p> </p><p>§</p><p> <br/>"We should at least go say hello to Harry. " George argues, closing the apartment door behind him, fixing his gaze on his twin, who is massaging his overworked shoulder.</p><p>"Why, is he here yet?" he inquires, pressing his fingers on the sore muscle.</p><p>"For a week now, Mom keeps reminding us," the other echoes, disappearing into the kitchen for a moment, then re-emerging with a couple of glasses of water, "We can't pretend we don't exist forever. "</p><p>Fred doesn't understand what the big deal is about disappearing and never being seen again: it's an easy way to not have to deal with the sight of Hermione, but he can't confess it to his twin, not now that he's promised himself to forget.</p><p>"Hey, do you know that I had a secret relationship with Granger for all of fifth year and I still can't get over it? Because I know that if I look into her eyes, I'll only want to kiss her and that's why I'm pretending that mom isn't writing to us, that Harry hasn't arrived, and that you, right now, aren't reminding me of anything," he thinks, drinking all in one go the water George brought him a little earlier.</p><p>"When do you want to go?" he struggles to ask, pushing Hermione back into the innermost part of his mind, where she had only been locked away for a few days after his departure from Hogwarts.</p><p>"Tomorrow?"</p><p> <br/>§<br/> </p><p>As Fred and George dematerialized in the Burrow's living room, Ginny's cries informed everyone of their presence.</p><p>"You should have warned me, but as usual you always get your way," Molly comments, crossing her arms over her chest, unable to hide a smile of happiness: having almost everyone back under the roof is an amazing event.</p><p>Ron is one of the first to come down the stairs to greet them, carrying the front page article from their store, " You guys ended up there, did you see it?" he asks pimply, while Ginny also reads it again for the tenth time, her heart full of pride.</p><p>Harry is the next to arrive, congratulating himself on something that, they point out, could never have come true without his help, "We still owe you," tells George, choking back his dark hair.</p><p>"But don't just stand there, what are you telling us?" Ginny pulls Fred by one sleeve of his sweater, then sits down on the couch.</p><p>"I see someone missed us," he comments, passing an arm around the smaller one's shoulders, who smiles, unable to hide her contentment.</p><p>"Of course, if we're not around, morale is down." intrudes George, sitting down next to Ginny, winking at her.</p><p>"Speaking of morale being down, where's Hermione?" Ron turns his gaze towards the stairs, from which no one appears yet, however.</p><p>"Why do you say that?" Fred misses a beat, also narrowing his gaze on the only possible entrance to the stairwell, hoping to see her appear.</p><p>"They gave her an Oustanding, <em>one.</em>" Harry points out, rolling his eyes.</p><p>Hermione, on the other hand, is pleased with that Oustanding and is yes, at the top of the stairs, undecided whether or not to go down them: what would be her next move? How would she react? She realizes, on the edge of the precipice, that it is not as easy as she had told herself and that, that pebble in her shoe, is getting heavier and heavier, as if it were a boulder. She takes courage then, shaking her face, imposing some self-control on herself.</p><p>"And ten Exceeds Expectations." Che clarifies, appearing behind the backs of her two best friends, flaunting a smile that, she knows, is fake when Aunt Muriel's teeth, "I can't complain."</p><p>"Ten? You beat even <em>my</em> expectations." George snorts, turning to his twin, "I owe you five galleons."</p><p>"You bet on Hermione's grades?" Ginny shifts her gaze from one to the other, who shrug indifferently. An indifference that burns in the chest of the only other girl, wanting to know why, how, when, and if they had ever talked about her, but that conversation soon fades, focusing on Quidditch, that damn Quidditch.</p><p> <br/>§</p><p> </p><p>George reclines on the living room couch, resting his feet on the coffee table, hiding a yawn, "I'm tired." He confirms.</p><p>They've been gone from school for a few weeks now and the work shows no signs of abating: there are always things to prepare, papers to sign, boxes to empty, shelves to decorate. Always, every moment of the day.</p><p>"I'd be surprised at the opposite." Fred runs a hand through his hair, wearing his pajama shirt. And for no particular reason, as he brushes his palm across his chest, Hermione's gentle touch on him comes to mind, making him wince for a moment. Immediately the memory of her, her presence spills into his subconscious, like a flooding river. Damn it, not yet.</p><p>"Tomorrow we can take things a little slower at least," George argues, slapping his arm a couple of times, intimating his body to stay awake. But Fred doesn't hear him, because in his mind right now he has Hermione's O.W.L.'s, which would be over in a few weeks.</p><p>"Fred?" George tries to get his attention, raising his voice, but it seems to be impossible.</p><p>"How do you think this is going to go?" he lets slip out loud.</p><p>"Are you freaking out?"</p><p>Fred shakes his head, sitting down next to his twin, "You think Hermione's going to be okay at O.W.L?"</p><p>And George doesn't ask him why he's asking that question, perhaps too scared to get an answer, since it's unnatural that at eleven o'clock on any given night, his twin's mind would be preoccupied with Hermione's exams. About the exams.</p><p>"I bet she'll take eight Exceeds Expectations."</p><p>"Ten." hurriedly countered Fred, remembering her concentrated face in the books, only troubled when their gazes met, "Bet five galleons?"</p><p> <br/>§</p><p> <br/>Five galleons.</p><p>How could they have bet on her intelligence for only five measly galleons? Hermione hastens to mitigate these thoughts of hers when Ron asks her to pass the bread, because from his seat he just can't reach it.</p><p>"Salt, too." he is quick to ask her, without looking up from his plate.</p><p>"You should be nicer, Ronald." his mother retorts, placing a quick apologetic smile on Hermione's face, who feels she is being watched by more than one look. And one in particular burns her skin so much that she wants to scream at him to stop, which she can't sustain. But she stays quiet and passes what was asked, being thanked in a voice basted with food.</p><p>"You're disgusting." whispers Ginny, shifting her gaze to the two newcomers, curious to hear more of their tale of the store's opening, which, they all admit, gets newer each time.</p><p>And as George's voice begins to play in the background, Hermione's mind takes flight: five galleons, Fred, I'm not going to let this one go. So many things, had she remembered, she wouldn't have forgiven him, like how he kissed her for the first time without warning her in the Common Room, unbeknownst to anyone, or even how now, more simply, he was making dinner practically impossible by continuing to lay eyes on her.  </p><p>"You remember her don't you, our first customer?" George looks to Fred for support, who is forced to reluctantly shift his gaze.</p><p>He nods, "How could I forget," he laughs, hurrying to describe how she had shown up at their door, even before opening hours.</p><p>Hermione doesn't listen to him anymore, though, as the boy's last words rumble noisily through her mind, triggering a series of sudden reactions, one of which is to close her stomach, making her skip Mrs. Weasley's precious dessert.</p><p>"Damn you, Fred, you and your five won galleons," and the pebble in her shoe he'd shoved into her the year before, giving her no way to protect herself.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Disclaimer: This story is a translation, something I'm not so good at. If there are any errors, please let me know ❤.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. It burns more after seeing you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Why did you look inside the spyglass?" he asks her, when they are now alone in the back room of the store. Hermione, sitting in the corner of the room, can't help but feel tiny as a range of emotions are tugging at her heart.</p><p>"Because that's what you do with a spyglass, you use it to look through," she whispers, crossing her hands over her chest.</p><p>Fred turns to her, trying to hide a laugh. He notes, with pleasure, that she hasn't lost the sharp tongue that had struck him some time ago and inevitably led them to desire each other more and more.</p><p>"Hold still and close your eyes," he tells her, stepping closer and stroking the left side of her face with his cream-stained finger. Hermione doesn't let him tell her twice, and in addition to stopping her movements, she also stops her breathing when she feels his hands on her body again.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Hermione, looking at her reflection in the mirror, curses Merlin and every other wizard she can think of, praying that that dark circle around her eye will go away with some evanescence spell. But Molly crushes her hopes when she asks her, amused, if she's really stuck her nose in the twins' stuff.</p><p>"Who punched you in the face?" Ron looks at her worriedly, shifting his gaze around him, searching for a culprit.</p><p>Hermione would like to tell him Fred's name, because in her subconscious the blame falls on his shoulders, but she remains silent, petrified again in front of her reflection.</p><p>The silence never seems to leave her, not even when Mrs. Weasley pushes her into the Sighted Shots, in search of one of her sons.</p><p>Let it be George, let it be George, let it be....</p><p>"Fred! Good thing I found you." Molly once again sends all her dreams up in smoke, "Hermione got a black eye after using one of your scopes, can you help her?"</p><p>Fred can't hide a faint smile, looking at the flushed face of the girl in front of her who, she admits, is feeling like a child in trouble, placed in the hands of the one who would punish her for good.</p><p>"Why did you look inside the spyglass?" he asks her, when they are now alone in the back room of the store. Hermione, sitting in the corner of the room, can't help but feel tiny as a range of emotions are tugging at her heart.</p><p>"Because that's what you do with a spyglass, you use it to look through," she whispers, crossing her hands over her chest.</p><p>Fred turns to her, trying to hide a laugh. He notes, with pleasure, that she hasn't lost the sharp tongue that had struck him some time ago and inevitably led them to desire each other more and more.</p><p>"Hold still and close your eyes," he tells her, stepping closer and stroking the left side of her face with his cream-stained finger. Hermione doesn't let him tell her twice, and in addition to stopping her movements, she also stops her breathing when she feels his hands on her body again.</p><p>To Fred a vice closes his stomach, because he notices that she remained beautiful. He keeps running his hand over the darkened part of her face for a few minutes, to no avail, because he doesn't want to see her leave the room yet, he's not ready to lose her again, now that she's real and no longer a dream.</p><p>Soon the caresses extend to her cheek and jaw, and she opens her eyes, staring into Fred's face.</p><p>She doesn't ask him anything, but she wants to. Full of questions, she lets herself be cradled by that light, but at the same time heavy hand, looking away, to avoid falling into an ever-deepening gap.</p><p>He stops her from doing so, lifting her face in his direction, moving quickly down to his lips, longing to taste them once more. Hermione gasps, but soon responds to the kiss, seeking his tongue. Fred moved closer and closer, resting his free hand on the back of the chair while he continued to tickle her neck with the other. She, with his, clings with all her might to the boy's shirt, clutching the fabric in her fingers.</p><p>The kisses on their bodies burn, but they can't help themselves, <em>one more</em>, before she goes back to her life and Fred is never seen again, <em>one more</em>, before the others can interrupt them, <em>one more</em>...</p><p>Hermione relinquishes her grip over his shirt, touching the skin of his chest, making sure it remained as smooth, as warm, as delicate as it once was. Fred smiles on her lips as her fingers climb up his body, wanting to not be stopped.</p><p>But a heavy noise behind the door reminds them both to return to reality. They pull away, breathless, exchanging a brief glance, also panned, when George enters to hide a couple of empty boxes.</p><p>"What's going on?" he asks, obviously confused to find them there.</p><p>"She looked in the scope. " smiles Fred, watching her out of the corner of his eye, amused.</p><p> </p><p>§</p><p> <br/>Ginny can't take her eyes off Hermione's face which, miraculously, has already returned to its original color, "They sure know more than the devil " she comments, touching her friend's skin, making sure it's not just makeup.</p><p>Hermione knows there's no deception, and as Ginny runs her fingers over the left side of her face, she notices how Fred's touch had been more... <em>Gentle</em>?</p><p>A shudder reminds her to come back to reality and she smiles at the youngest of the Weasleys, following her towards the second floor of the store, hoping to never meet his gaze again.</p><p>A look that follows her the whole time anyway, both when Hermione approaches the shelves of Sea Snacks and when Ginny drags her near the love potions. And there, as she picks up a bottle, the latter becomes more and more pressing.</p><p>He thinks it wouldn't do her any good anyway, because even if she doesn't realize it, she's capable of being charming in her own right, of turning the heads of the boys who pass her by, she's capable of making them laugh, of making them smile, of making them fall in love.</p><p>Fred shakes his face, shifting his gaze a little to the left, removing Hermione from his view, censoring himself.</p><p>They'd promised each other, after all, by mutual agreement, not to let it go to their heads and forget about it. Yet to Fred that seemed like an impossible request, because he couldn't do it. He tried to distract himself, he worked tirelessly, forcing his thoughts to be silent, but it was no use, because in his head, when he reached the bed exhausted, there was only her.</p><p>"I don't sell them to her " George comments at her side, suddenly appearing.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"The love potions, forget it."</p><p>Fred lowers his gaze again to Hermione, who is now laughing with Ginny, who slyly pretends to retrieve a dozen flasks.</p><p>"No, definitely," George remarks, feeling more pity towards whoever his sister had been the person she so desired, than protection towards her.</p><p> <br/>§</p><p> </p><p>Hermione's lips stretch into a smile at the sight of Harry, who, after his Quidditch victory, is talking to Ginny, definitely ecstatic.</p><p>Ron is in the corner, still delighted with his victory, talking to Lavender, eventually tasting her lips in an alcove of the Common Room.</p><p>And Hermione, pointing at her friends, suddenly feels alone, empty. No one would have celebrated with her that year, no one would have taken her by the arm, pulling her away from the convulsive buzz of the festivities, to kiss her impetuously in the middle of the bare hallway. No one would have told her that seeing her face in the stands was beautiful and that, by dint of having Hermione's eyes on him, his clothes had worn out, which he would have taken off soon after anyway, to celebrate in their own way.</p><p>She shakes her head as Cormac stands beside her with a toothy grin, "We won" he whispers to her, reaching for her hand. A hand Hermione is careful to push away, hiding her disgust. "<em>You shouldn't be the one holding my hand, and it's definitely not because of you that Gryffindor won the game</em>."</p><p>She forces herself to silence hermind, smiling at him, feigning non-existent complicity. Cormac is a handsome boy, she can't deny it, but the more she looks at him, the more those golden hairs of his bore her, compared to the fire she was used to dealing with. And his attitude, so gentle and mischievous at the same time, fails to reach out and overcome the one she has known for more years and who, despite herself, had, and continues, to drive her crazy.</p><p>She apologizes, turning away from McLaggen as her heart shrinks in her chest, forcing her to seek air outside the Common Room. She crouches on the stairs, bringing her mind back to the last kiss Fred had given her before returning to Hogwarts, losing herself in that faint and fragile memory, feeling a brief tear roll down her cheek.</p><p>
  <em>Burns that pebble under her foot, doesn't it?</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Withdrawal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry runs a hand through his hair then, undecided whether to speak again, for fear of being crucified, but then takes courage, clearing his throat, "Is it for Fred?" </p><p>Hermione's arm stops in mid-air as the name spoken by her best friend begins to buzz in her mind, louder and louder. </p><p>"What does it have to do with Fred now?" she blurts out, avoiding showing her face, as she's sure that by now her cheeks have been tinged with a slight reddish hue. </p><p>Harry falls silent, quickly remembering when he had unwittingly seen how Fred's hand had silently sought Hermione's. But had he really seen right? Had those fingers come together? Had she smiled, shifting her gaze to the other side of the room, before being dragged somewhere else? </p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To Harry, the friend seems like a lifeless husk. Hermione, on the other hand, is full of life, but she has gone through withdrawal, feeling like an ex - smoker during the first five months away from a cigarette. She's irritated, angry, lonely, but she tries not to let it show, not always at least. </p><p>"Are you all right?" the Chosen One finally asks her, pinning her by the wrist, forcing her eyes to mirror Harry's green ones. Hermione, bewildered, immediately looks away, afraid that she has done or confessed too much. </p><p>She nods, tapping the floor with her foot: is it really that blatant? </p><p>"You seem anxious." </p><p>Altered, that's the right adjective to credit her with. Hermione is altered that she still hasn't heard or received a letter from Fred since that kiss in the <em>Weasleys</em>' Wizard Wheezes <em>warehouse</em>, and she's altered that she can't put it out of her mind. </p><p>"You made a deal, you can't expect him to show up, that wasn't the game." She sighs, shaking her head, releasing her wrist from her friend's grasp to settle one of the books she holds tightly to her chest on the shelf, "It's okay" she concludes cynically. </p><p>"Is it for Ron?" Harry tilts his head, leaning against the table behind him, dangling one leg in the gap. </p><p>Hermione, who has her back to him, mitigates an innocent smile, "It's not for Ron, I'm glad he's with Lavender." </p><p>Harry runs a hand through his hair then, undecided whether to speak again, for fear of being crucified, but then takes courage, clearing his throat, "Is it for Fred?" </p><p>Hermione's arm stops in mid-air as the name spoken by her best friend begins to buzz in her mind, louder and louder. </p><p>"What does it have to do with Fred now?" she blurts out, avoiding showing her face, as she's sure that by now her cheeks have been tinged with a slight reddish hue. </p><p>Harry falls silent, quickly remembering when he had unwittingly seen how Fred's hand had silently sought Hermione's. But had he really seen right? Had those fingers come together? Had she smiled, shifting her gaze to the other side of the room, before being dragged somewhere else? </p><p>"Hermione." he calls back to her, in a serious tone. </p><p>She turns around, "What does this have to do with Fred?" but the light in her eyes as she says his name is blinding, unmistakable. </p><p>"Hermione." Harry stands up, placing the last book holding his friend on the table, taking her face in his hands, "Stop keeping this to yourself, what am I doing here?"</p><p> </p><p>§</p><p><br/>"Ginny wrote us" yells George from the living room, trying to get the attention of his twin, still lying in bed. </p><p>"What does it say?" Fred yawns, running a hand through his hair. He stretches, getting up, then walking with slow steps toward his brother. </p><p>"They won the last Quidditch game." begins George, chewing on a piece of dark chocolate, "Oh you didn't expect this one - Ron got busy with Lavender Brown!"</p><p>"Lavender?" the tone from Fred is sharp, feeling the heart in his chest burn. Since when had Ron stopped running after Hermione? He, of all people, had been one of the deterrents that had driven them apart, to avoid hurting a friend and a brother. Ron loved Hermione, even the billions of blades of grass on the lawns around Hogwarts knew it, and the only solution was to let go, to lose each other, to forget each other. But now, thinking of Lavender in Ron's arms, Fred wonders if he was wrong: would Hermione have stayed? Would she have wanted him by her side? </p><p>He shifts behind his twin, aiming his eyes at his sister's delicate writing. </p><p>"Harry invited Luna to Professor Slughorn's party? What the hell are we missing?" chants George, scratching his head. </p><p>"Why would McLaggen accompany Hermione?" blurts Fred, averting his angry, inflamed gaze, trying to erase the sight of the two of them holding hands. He shakes his face, sitting down on the couch. His heart gives out again, forcing him to pause.</p><p>"Ginny doesn't say much about them," George observes, shifting his confused gaze to his twin, "It says she doesn't think Hermione's coming, though, for Christmas."</p><p>
  <em>Are you trying to kill me, Hermione?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>§</p><p> <br/>"Why are you hiding?" asked Harry, watching Hermione, sheltered behind the balcony curtains. </p><p>"I left Cormac under the mistletoe, afraid to go back out there." </p><p>"Remind me why you wanted to invite him of all people to the party," the Chosen One's tone is wry, but sounds to her ears like a rebuke. </p><p>"He was the first one who asked me," she justifies herself. Imagining Fred's face at the news, Hermione blushes on her cheeks, suddenly feeling guilty about that misfire: would he have cared? </p><p>"You had Ginny add that in the letter, didn't you?"</p><p>Before he can have time to hear an answer, Cormac appears from behind the curtains, to speak to Harry. </p><p>"Have you seen Hermione?" he asks him, exhibiting a mischievous grimace, pursing his lips, "She's rather elusive your little friend."</p><p>The Chosen One denies, turning his eyes away from her figure, unnoticeable behind the heavy fabric, "Anything else you need?" he then asks, hoping to get himself out of that uncomfortable situation. </p><p>"If you see her, please tell her I'm looking for her, we have a score to settle, if you know what I mean."</p><p>Hermione, the account would gladly give it to him by crashing, but she just clutches the first curtain veil in her hands, irritated more at her life choices, than at the boy. Because it's not hard to sit down, to throw four or five lines at Fred, saying that she was wrong, that theirs had been a mistake without a remedy and that, now, she can't get it out of her mind even with a memory spell, because it's like a pebble in her shoe. Maybe she wouldn't have said that: she wouldn't have compared Fred to a pebble, to convince him... <em>to convince him to do what?</em></p><p>She snapped back to reality when Harry's eyes landed on her for the umpteenth time, "Cormac's looking for you." he whispered to her, hiding an amused laugh. </p><p>Hermione rolls her eyes, though finally her lips curve into an amused smile as well. </p><p> <br/> §</p><p> <br/>Fred still believes it, until Ginny shuts the door behind her, eliminating his hopes of seeing Hermione enter the house. She didn't really come. </p><p>He lowers his eyes to the ground, sinking yet another toad: is it really terrible to have wished to see her even from a distance, for a second? </p><p>He realizes that he feels a deep emptiness in his chest, one that he continues to feel ever since, after vibrating into the air from Hogwarts, he watched Hermione's increasingly distant figure for a moment. </p><p>"How was the party?" began George, sitting more comfortably on the couch as Ron rolled his eyes. </p><p>"Don't eat your heart out just because you weren't invited," Harry retorts, turning back to the twins, "Normal," he hastens to add, looking for Ginny, the girl he had wanted to invite all along. </p><p>"You went to a party with Luna and you dare say everything went 'normal'?" Ron suddenly springs back to life, mimicking the quotation marks with his fingers.</p><p>"A distasteful clarification," Ginny points out to him, resting her head on Fred's shoulder, who ruffles her hair amicably. </p><p>"You missed Cormac, who, for most of the evening, has been desperately searching for Hermione, hiding behind the curtain." the Chosen One drops his eyes to one of the twins, who, oddly enough, doesn't react to that provocation. </p><p>"I would have run away too, if he had dragged me under the mistletoe, even though I had already made it clear to him that I wouldn't kiss him even under <em>Imperio</em>."</p><p>Fred, the more he hears them talk about Hermione, the more he wonders if she hasn't suddenly gone crazy, perhaps due to the stress of studying. He brings his attention back to the conversation, which has focused on Cormac's regurgitation during the party. </p><p>Disgusting, he hastens to think, imagining Hermione's embarrassed face. He shakes his face, trying to shoo her away, while the figure of her seems to remain anchored with nails in his mind. </p><p>Always her, only her, even when she's not there. Always her, miserable only her. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Crying, in his arms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"That made you lose several stitches," Fred whispers to her, passing a strand of hair behind her ear. Hermione looks at him, confused: since when were there points? Points for counting what? </p><p>She makes to open her mouth, but she already has a feeling he wouldn't answer her. </p><p>"It has its charms McLaggen." she struggles to counter, hoping to have been convincing. </p><p>"Where would all that charm be placed? In his slobbery lips seeking yours under the mistletoe or in the regurgitation of dragon balls on the floor?"</p><p>"When did you have time to become a gossipy old woman?" Hermione's eyes mirrored Fred's, who let out a laugh. </p>
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    <p>When Fred's eyes meet Hermione's, he understands that the world is about to turn upside down again. Almost a year, they tell themselves, has passed since he last saw her, yet it's as if a day has passed. Time, they realize in that second, has never been a barrier, like distance: wherever they were, whatever time it was, their thoughts were directed toward each other. </p><p>She looks away, tired, grieving, sad. </p><p>Fred notices that she has grown, that she moves with more awareness. Adult at the wrong age, because of a war. He knows she has just had to say goodbye to his parents, he knows she is gritting his teeth not to cry, not to make a scene, and the more he thinks about it, the more worn down he is inside. </p><p>Ron asks him for bread, suddenly bringing him back to the family dinner, a dinner that, in spite of Molly's good intentions, seems to be getting darker and darker. </p><p>Dumbledore had died a few months earlier, Fred and George had had to close up store, Hermione had left home and now, all together, they're waiting for the signal to go and retrieve Harry, in an attempt to get him to safety.</p><p>No one speaks anymore, concentrated in their own thoughts full of hope and torment, staring at the plate in front of them. </p><p>Ginny is the first to get up, rushing to her room, her heart still in turmoil: after Harry had kissed her in the Common Room she had felt like she was flying ten feet in the air. She'd dreamt about it so much as a child that when the Chosen One's lips had passionately touched hers, everything had seemed surreal, impossible. But Hermione had kept telling her and Harry had kept confirming it for some time. </p><p>Then, when the first face of war had shown itself to their eyes, cruelly, almost barbarically, they had recoiled, lost. And Ginny, heartbroken, was now paying the consequences of having deceived herself, of having smiled, of having fallen in love for real. </p><p>Hermione soon followed her upstairs, sitting by her side to hug each other, healing each other's wounds. </p><p>"You shouldn't try to cheer me up," Ginny whispers to her, resting her forehead against her friend's head, "My heartaches are nothing."</p><p>But Hermione, who's heartache has been going on for more than two years, knows that's not true, that pain shouldn't be ignored. She closes her eyes, helpless, as Ginny's loving grip reminds her that, in the end, she is not entirely so alone.</p><p> <br/> §</p><p> <br/>As Hermione descends the stairs, Fred's face turns to her, focusing her perfectly, despite the dim moonlight. They don't speak to each other, preferring to be lulled into a heavy silence while, in their minds, the world is rebuilding. </p><p>He gets up from the couch, holding her in his arms, letting her know that she can let it out, that she can trust him as she had in the past, that she can cry, that he would wipe away her tears one by one, that he would keep her from being any more alone than she had been two minutes before. </p><p>And Hermione clings to those silent phrases, clutching Fred's sweater tightly until her fingers turn white and sore, but she doesn't care. The boy's scent breaks down her last remaining defenses and she feels, without being able to stop them, the first tears leaving her eyes and falling some on her hands and some on the floor. </p><p>She begins to wince, taken by the pressing memory of her parents' voices saying her name, smiling at her, telling her they love her and are proud of her for what, relying only on her own strength, she has become. </p><p>Fred leaves little kisses on her hair, continuing to gently caress her back, allowing her to break all the chains of her heart, listening incessantly to that river of tears that, probably, began to create itself already a few years before. Because in addition to her parents, Hermione remembers being stuck in warm, safe arms, the arms she's been dreaming of throughout the past year. </p><p>"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," he whispers to her as her sobs subside. </p><p>"You shouldn't have, they weren't these... " the girl struggles to say, being interrupted by Fred's body, holding her until she can hardly breathe anymore. </p><p> </p><p>§</p><p> <br/>"That made you lose several stitches," Fred whispers to her, passing a strand of hair behind her ear. Hermione looks at him, confused: since when were there points? Points for counting what? </p><p>She makes to open her mouth, but she already has a feeling he wouldn't answer her. </p><p>"It has its charms McLaggen." she struggles to counter, hoping to have been convincing. </p><p>"Where would all that charm be placed? In his slobbery lips seeking yours under the mistletoe or in the regurgitation of dragon balls on the floor?"</p><p>"When did you have time to become a gossipy old woman?" Hermione's eyes mirrored Fred's, who let out a laugh. </p><p>It seems that ever since they stepped away from the Burrow, to sit on the cool grass under the starry sky, their spirits have been cleansed. </p><p>"I'll give you that, you win," the boy raises his hands to the sky, smiling at them. </p><p>Silence envelops them again, but it's not heavy this time, it's a silence that smells of a thousand smiles, a thousand laughs: because on that fresh grass they found each other again, as if they had been catapulted two years before. </p><p>Hermione, hiding the thought of her parents and the war, lives in the moment, watching Fred's face more carefully, studying the fine cut of his eyes, the pronounced but not annoying nose and the lips, those unforgettable lips. Similar is the thought of him, going over the features of the girl's thin face. </p><p>They mirror each other's souls, understanding that they are always at the same empty spot, on a bottomless precipice: what if they had taken each other now? How long would it be, before they had to separate again? Would it have hurt again? </p><p>These questions disturb their peaceful silence, but they can no longer dismiss them, charged with an energy built up throughout the previous year. However, when Fred raises his hand to caress her face, he withdraws it shortly after, even before he reaches out to touch her skin. For the din of war is louder than her questions.</p><p>And, imagining having to part with Hermione once more, he realizes it would hurt, probably more hurt than ever. </p><p>She looks away, reading those thoughts in Fred's eyes, understanding them. She was going to leave, no need to imagine it. Sooner or later she would leave the Burrow with Harry and Ron, never having the certainty of ever returning, never having the certainty of ever seeing Fred again and there, right there, the pain would sting her heart until it finally wore her out. </p><p>"We should go to bed, it's starting to get cold."</p><p>As Hermione stands up, wiping herself from the green grass, taking her first step, looking over Fred's back from behind, she feels something start to bother her again: that pebble in her shoe, which had briefly moved to a less painful position, now stings her flesh again, with more ferocity than before as if, in the meantime, it had poked itself. </p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Find one another</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Her cheeks blush guiltily as she hurries everything out of Fred's sight, who rolls his eyes, smiling. </p>
<p>"Do you really think I'm that stupid?" he asks her, closing the door behind him. </p>
<p>"It would be convenient, sometimes," Hermione confesses, running a hand through her hair, exhausted from the hard day. She observes, as the color of the sky is already tending to blue, that Ginny has not yet returned to her room. Has she decided to talk to Harry? </p>
<p>She banishes these thoughts from her head, focusing on the figure of Fred, who is getting closer and closer to her, too close.</p>
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    <p>Hermione is one of the first members of the Order to hit the ground. Safe and sound, she remembers to breathe, rushing to check that Harry has also remained alive and is unharmed. When the two finish hugging, Ron joins them with Tonks, who breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of her husband, "You're alive." she whispers to him, before kissing him lightly.</p>
<p>Soon after, Fred hits the floor as well, paralyzing at the sight of his injured twin, bleeding on the couch. A rush of hate begins to run through his veins, stroking George's arm, laughing at his stupid joke. </p>
<p>Hermione, on the other side of the room, doesn't take her eyes off the two of them, wanting to hug Fred, to tell him that nothing happened, that it passes, but she remains still, erasing the pained expression on her face. </p>
<p>The pain, however, fades as the days go by, making way for happiness at Bill and Fleur's wedding, accentuated also by George's quick recovery. Even Ginny gets used to having Harry by her side once again, understanding his choice to take different paths so as not to put her in danger. Therefore, on the eve of the party, everyone's spirits make peace with their torments.</p>
<p>"Where's George?" asks Hermione, lifting her eyes from the bag she's rummaging through, watching Fred in the doorway. </p>
<p>"He's sleeping." he shrugs, taking a step into the room. He casts a glance at the handful of books Hermione holds at her side and then at the small clutch bag in her hands. </p>
<p>Her cheeks blush guiltily as she hurries everything out of Fred's sight, who rolls his eyes, smiling. </p>
<p>"Do you really think I'm that stupid?" he asks her, closing the door behind him. </p>
<p>"It would be convenient, sometimes," Hermione confesses, running a hand through her hair, exhausted from the hard day. She observes, as the color of the sky is already tending to blue, that Ginny has not yet returned to her room. Has she decided to talk to Harry? </p>
<p>She banishes these thoughts from her head, focusing on the figure of Fred, who is getting closer and closer to her, too close. </p>
<p>His hands caress the side of the bed with one finger, making her wish she could feel them again, like two years before, "What are you doing here?" she asks him then, swallowing. </p>
<p>But she doesn't need an answer, she knows for herself. They've been peering at each other in the shadows for days, eager to taste each other again. After George had been wounded, they'd figured it out. Life is too short, too elusive, too cruel, not to have fun. </p>
<p>They had tried not to look for each other, keeping busy with preparations for the party, with little result, always ending up colliding with their eyes, yearning. </p>
<p>As a matter of fact, no words come out of Fred's mouth, who by now has reached her, forcing her to raise her face, not to break the eye contact. His hands begin to caress the hollow of her neck gently and slowly, burning her, then moving up to her soft cheeks. </p>
<p>He notices how they are thinner than he remembered them, unlike her lips, which remained full. He kisses them softly, then takes a big breath: is this real? Is this happening?</p>
<p>Hermione stood up on her toes, running her fingers through his reddish hair, smelling that clean scent she'd missed so much, feeling alive again, present. They continue kissing endlessly, forcing their tongues to relentlessly savor each other, struggling to get control of that passion. Fred runs a hand down her back, to bring her closer, fiddling with the strands of hair that fall over her shoulders, tucking the one still free under her shirt, to caress her flat belly. Hermione, on those lips, sighs, clinging to his neck, pressing her breasts to his sweater. A sweater he takes off shortly after, mussing his already messy hair from her fingers, which now tickle Fred's chest. </p>
<p>In those kisses they silence their desire, trying to put out that fire in their chests: <em>if we humor him, will he go away?</em> This they read in each other's eyes as both of their pants are thrown into the corner of the room and Hermione is lifted into Fred's arms, to whom she clings with all her might, leaning against the frozen wall behind her. </p>
<p>She kisses his neck once, twice, a million times, to taste that skin so soft, forgotten. Fred's right hand, however, goes up her belly, caressing her round, white, inviting breasts, but instead of licking them, he prefers to leave quick kisses on her chest. </p>
<p>Hermione begins to feel Fred's erection on her, through their underwear and lets escape a sigh, silenced by his lips. </p>
<p>Only a brief moment passes before they are both naked on her bed, panting, but to them it seems like an eternity: every gesture, every sound is as long as infinity and it doesn't stop, it never stops. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> §</p>
<p> <br/>Hermione looks at herself in the mirror and, even though her figure has never changed, she knows she has lightened up: the boulder she had been carrying around for too long seems to have disappeared, as if it had never been there. Now, she imagines, it's just a small pebble, undecided whether to leave and stay. She would tell him to leave, that Fred is beside her again anyway, that she doesn't need to imagine him anymore, but she stays quiet, enjoying the moment. </p>
<p>She remembers the touch of him on her body, wishing that it wasn't just last night, but that she could go on and on, that when she's with him the pain is lessened more. </p>
<p>She casts a glance at Ginny's bed and imagines it's the same thing: since Harry arrived at the Burrow she's been better, happier. She knows she can't be with him, but she's sure he loves her. Not only her, but Hermione, Ron, Molly and everyone else know they love each other. </p>
<p>Yet they do nothing: they've grown up, they've figured it out. Let them live this love in silence, watching each other from afar, hoping to come together at the end of the war, to start again. </p>
<p>Hermione would like to have the same confidence, the same lightness of mind, but it seems impossible for her to stay away from Fred once again.</p>
<p>It's oxygen, it's freedom, it's fun: it manages to make everything more surreal, as in a fairy tale, in a dream, in a romantic comedy. And Hermione is addicted to it, despite the fact that for years she had forced herself to keep quiet. Shut up,  is a deal, you can't have him. </p>
<p>But now Ron is in love with Lavender, and the two of them are no longer far apart: why not be happy? </p>
<p>Her thoughts are interrupted when Fred appears behind her, dressed for Fleur's wedding. He smiles at her, letting his eyes fall back on her, on her dress, on her figure that he would like to undress again, if possible.</p>
<p>"I'm sure there are a varied number of people who would love to dance with you tonight," he says, stroking her shoulders. </p>
<p>"You think so?" Hermione searches her gaze in the reflection of the mirror, hinting at a faint smile. </p>
<p>"They can't all be dumb." Fred stops tickling her shoulder and slides his hand down to wrap around her belly. He then leans toward her ear, "As far as I'm concerned, I don't think I'm that dumb ." he whispers mischievously to her. </p>
<p>"Are you trying to ask me to dance?" Hermione's fingers caress Fred's arm gently. </p>
<p>"Would you accept?"</p>
<p>Hermione turns to him, giving her back to the mirror and raises her hands, to straighten the boy's tie. Their gazes cross quickly, it's a second, but it's intense. </p>
<p>They smile at each other, forgetting that they had to go downstairs to attend the party, forgetting that they were at the Burrow: being able to be so close after so long, in the everyday, touching each other, touching even just their fingers under the table during lunch or dinner, are some of the many things they had both missed. </p>
<p>Silence envelops them as they study each other's faces and remember the first time their gazes collided in a dark hallway at Hogwarts. Hermione had approached him with her head up, tilting her arm towards him as if to scold him, and Fred had laughed, a laugh that tasted of happiness and serenity, and so even though she had rolled her eyes at first, she had soon followed him. Simple, they had known each other better in one laugh, which had followed others: millions, if they had counted them. </p>
<p>Hermione and Fred laughed, getting closer and closer, but they laughed silently, while the others didn't look at them, in the dark corners of a school that was making them fall in love and at the same time not giving them time to figure it out. They had taken their time quietly, suffering from a distance, trying to remember the feeling of moist lips, lit eyes, whispers and caresses. </p>
<p>They continued to look at each other, unaware that Ginny was in front of the girls' room and stopped to watch the two of them from a distance, while even George was drawn to his sister's smile. </p>
<p>Spying - if that's the right word, since the door to the room is completely wide open - on his brother with Hermione Granger causes a strange feeling in his stomach, but he can't help noticing how she manages to hold her own against him. She glares at him, but it's a challenge with no winners or losers. </p>
<p>Ginny, at George's side, tries hard to hide her happiness, but it is impossible to contain it. She clears her throat, pretending to have to look for something in her own part of the room, forcing Hermione and Fred to quickly separate. </p>
<p>She looks down, suddenly heated, while the twin hides a wicked smile, hurrying towards George, who is waiting for him in the hallway with his hands behind his head. </p>
<p>"I'll see you later." he tells her, before finally disappearing from view, casting one last glance at Hermione's dress. </p>
<p>They had seen each other later, danced later. On the dance floor Fred had held her gently: they had clung to each other in front of everyone. There was no reason to hide, to conceal: it was love, they had both realized. And their hands, if not for that Death Eater attack, would never have parted again. </p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Like a pebble in the shoe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's tremendously heavy to walk: Hermione realizes this when she looks up and sees that Harry and Ron are far ahead of her. But she can't go any faster than that, not with all the weight she feels on her, that anchors her to the ground, that burns inside her. That pain has returned, like a pebble in her shoe, and now it seems to be embedded in her skin: with every step, a shiver runs through her body, pushing her closer and closer to a breaking point. She had come so close in the last few days, without being able to find a way to avoid it, to cancel that constant pain. </p><p>She pauses, running a hand over her forehead to bring herself back to reality and takes a long breath: she wished she could have stopped for real, stopped for good. </p><p>Harry notices that she has fallen behind and turns to her, bending his lips into a faint smile. Ron sits down on the ground as the Chosen One catches up to her, "Is everything okay?" he asks her, when they are now close, close enough to count the dirt stains that have been littering both of their faces for days. </p><p>It's a stupid question, they know better. It's a matter-of-fact question they've been asking themselves since they decided to leave Grimmauld Place, it's the question that's keeping them going. </p><p>Not because straining helps them find new strength, but because all three of them are tired of hearing it: the sooner they would finish that question, the sooner that question would go away. No, everything is not okay. Nothing is okay: the war, the tireless walking, the cursed medallion they exchange, the hunger, the pain and the certainty of having left someone behind, someone they might never see again. </p><p>No, it's not all right if I don't have Fred by my side. No, it's not okay because it's been weeks since I even remembered the sound of his laughter. No, it's not all right. This is what Hermione wants to scream with every breath in her lungs, but she nods her head as Harry strokes her skinny cheek. </p><p>"We'll be making camp soon, just hang in there a little longer." not even needing to ask, Hermione would grit her teeth, as she had in previous years. She was always good at pretending to be okay and deep down she knows that even that challenge wouldn't be able to bend her. She shakes her head, trying to compose herself, taking Harry by the hand, increasing the speed of their steps. </p><p> </p><p> §</p><p> <br/>She would have expected everything: she would have expected to be caught by the Death Eaters by now, she would have expected to hear Fred's name over the radio, she would have expected to scream, to paw, she would have expected not to have brought everything she needed, but she would never have expected to see Ron give in. She follows him for a few more seconds, until his shoulders disappear into the night and she is left alone. Alone, embraced by the cold air of the woods. </p><p>And that's when yet another unexpected thing happens: Hermione starts to cry, giving in under the pressure of something that no, this time she can't fight. </p><p>She feels the hot tears on her cheeks, while a shiver runs down her spine: it's exhaustion, it's pain, emptiness, cold. And she just can't think that maybe, if Fred had come with her, she would have been full of strength, healthy, full of love and warmed by the arms that, she notes, were and remain an indispensable support. </p><p>Because she always knew deep down, Fred would have been there no matter what. He might not have loved her anymore, but he would have cared for her. They had always been friends, before they became lovers. Their relationship had been built and based on being able to laugh about it: about some embarrassing behavior, about a spell gone wrong, about a potion that had gotten too old. Perhaps, in time, if they had broken up sooner, they could have laughed at what they had been, at a love that had overwhelmed them and caught them unprepared. </p><p>But Hermione, embarked on that kind of suicide mission, now doesn't even know if she can ever see him, feel him, hold him again. </p><p>It's other arms that hold her, it's Harry's friendly ones: it's a desperate embrace, made of unnecessary apologies and shared emotions. </p><p>"I never meant for any of this to happen," he whispers, stroking her hair. But Hermione knows he's not to blame, that no one is. That's why she struggles to smile and wipe away silly tears. Crying now is useless. </p><p> <br/> §</p><p> </p><p>Fred stares at the wall in front of him, unable to speak or move: it wouldn't have changed anything, not now. He should have done something sooner, he could have prevented Hermione from being taken to Malfoy Manor. He should have left with her, to protect her.  </p><p>He runs a hand through his hair, trying to chase down some painful tears. Now that he's had a chance to touch her again, had a chance to kiss her, to laugh, to talk to her, the world has taken her away from him again and - what's worse -, taken her away and almost killed her. </p><p>Hermione almost died, tortured. Did she call out his name? Did she look for him? Did she think of him? Fred tried not to let anything show, forcing his emotions to be silent, his heart not to breathe. But George reads to him, George knows that his pupils scream only two words, "I want Hermione back." </p><p>Molly knows it too, she's figured it out: after seeing them dance at Bill's wedding, it was clear. Fred has found love, a simple, pure love. A love made of laughter, of responsibility, but also of lightness. </p><p>Yet he now feels slowed down, heavy. Hermione told him that while they had been apart, it was as if he had constantly felt a pebble in his shoe. He understands that, he feels it too with every step since his hand lost hers in the Death Eater attack. Only, thinking of the scars on her arms, thinking of her alone, thinking of her constantly in danger of death, he realizes that the pebble has become a colossal boulder. </p><p>The door behind him opens and Fred turns to see Molly enter, with a large cup of steaming chocolate. He tries to smile at her mother, who is evidently also tried by the news she just received from Bill and Fleur. She sits beside her son, stroking his hair, "There hasn't been a single moment since I met Hermione when I thought she was weak. Not a single one." she calmly confesses to him, "We'll see her again soon, we'll see them all again soon."</p><p>Fred smiles at her, nodding his head, "Thanks, Ma."</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. It is raining outside</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hermione blinks her eyes. </p><p>Outside, it's raining inside. </p><p>Was it only she who saw it? Did only she realize it? Did Fred die just ? Ron at her side runs towards his family, destroyed, Harry looks for her in the crowd, Molly has already found his face. </p><p>Hermione can't decipher those eyes though: are they really telling her that this Fred, her Fred, is gone? </p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>It's raining outside. </em>
</p><p>Sunlight rains down on the leaves. And Hermione follows that dance, those bright drops creating spectacular plays. </p><p>It is raining the sun on the trees around the Burrow, on the lawns, on the house, on the window, on her, on him. And the light dances, like Hermione dances in Fred's arms when he reaches her. It's still early morning: they've both escaped from bed, so they can be together a few more hours, before they part again, for the last time. </p><p>"I miss you already" says Fred, resting his face on her shoulder, encircling her sides with his arms. </p><p>Hermione smiles, shaking her head curtly, "Don't push it."</p><p>He kisses the crook of her shoulder, letting his grip around her body. Hermione walks over to the window, then turns to face the boy, fully lit by the sunlight.</p><p>It's raining inside and outside. </p><p>She stops to look at the twin's face, still half asleep, with that new scar on his right cheek. She's been stroking it for weeks, nursing it for days on end. Just as she tended the wounds on his body, in his soul. Fred is alive, bathed in sunlight on a September morning. Breathing, smiling, kissing. It matters little that in a few hours she will be on her way to Hogwarts again to attend her senior year, that they will be apart, distant, because this time they are not lost. </p><p>A noise upstairs warns both of them that the time they can spend together is already running out, so Fred spreads his arms, inviting her to dive in, "Here." He imposes, smiling at her. </p><p>She doesn't let him repeat it twice, putting one foot in front of the other, unburdened, unanxious. There is nothing to stop her from taking flight, no weight to crush her to the ground. </p><p>Like a pebble in someone else's shoe. </p><p> </p><p> §</p><p> <br/>
Hermione blinks her eyes. </p><p>
  <em>Outside, it's raining inside. </em>
</p><p>Was it only she who saw it? Did only she realize it? Did Fred die just ? Ron at her side runs towards his family, destroyed, Harry looks for her in the crowd, Molly has already found his face. </p><p>Hermione can't decipher those eyes though: are they really telling her that this Fred, <em>her</em> Fred, is gone? </p><p>Her stomach turns, she begins to break out in a cold sweat, as her head starts to spin. Supported, only by Harry who found her. On the verge of dying too, he doesn't leave her until the very end, just like that boulder crushing her to the ground. </p><p>"He's not dead, Hermione, he's not dead," he says in her ear, to make himself better heard, "He's not dead."</p><p>Wounded, bloodied, tired, Fred is lying on the ground, but not dead. He stands on the edge, smiling, asking to see her, searching for her hand among those beside him. Hermione, just Hermione. And she comes, like a breath of fresh air, like the only medicine. She takes his hand, warms it, holds it to her chest, kisses it, cures it. </p><p>Because Hermione has understood that she has always put that stone in her shoe. She's always wanted to put it there: a cruel fantasy, an image. She doesn't need something that keeps her anchored to the past, that brakes her. Because Hermione loves, loves Fred with every pore of her body, loves him from the first laugh she heard, from the first word they exchanged, and there's no point in saying it's not true. No sense in not telling him to quit school, no sense in not telling him he got ten Exceeds Expectations. No sense in telling him she doesn't love him, if she does. </p><p>"I'm here, Fred" she whispers to him, trying to smile. </p><p>"I love you, Hermione."</p><p>She tries to shush him, but it's no use.  </p><p>"I love you, Hermione." he repeats, tightening his grip on her hand, "Do you hear me? I want you to know that, that I love you."</p><p> <br/>
 §</p><p> <br/>
It's raining outside, but they're standing outside too. </p><p>Fred and Hermione are running through the rain, hand in hand. </p><p>They could have dematerialized, disappeared, reappeared, but they decided to get wet in the rain, to laugh in the rain, to be free in the rain. </p><p>Fred pauses, raising her in his arms, to look down at her happy face, rotating in on himself. He hadn't been this happy since his seventh year at Hogwarts. He'd realized it even then, that Hermione was special, that she was someone he could always communicate with, always feel connected to. That's why, when they had let go, he had felt lost, empty, anchored. But she had returned, bringing an air of life that was indescribable. With her, Fred feels five years younger, feels stronger, more swaggering than anyone else. He makes to lean her down, matching their lips in a wet kiss. </p><p>At that point Hermione tilts her arm towards him, as if to scold him, to tell him it's time to go home, and Fred laughs, a laugh that tastes of happiness and serenity and so, although she rolls her eyes at first, she soon follows him. </p><p>"Let's go home." he concludes, taking Hermione's hand back, and then taking the path they were already on earlier. </p><p>"You make the bed."</p><p>"There's no point in making the bed if I'm going to use it," he tells her, kissing her forehead softly, and then looking contentedly at Hermione's face, which is still colored, despite all the years of shenanigans. </p><p>Outside it's raining and inside it's not. </p><p>Outside it's raining and Hermione and Fred are home. </p><p>Outside it rains and Fred kisses Hermione on the lips, caresses her skin, looks at her body, sees her beautiful. </p><p>Outside it rains and that pebble, the one that was in the shoe, that overbearing boulder, is broken to the ground, overcome by love. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I did it, I finished this story too. The pain of having to leave her is tremendous, but I am equally happy. In saying the end, I also let go of a pebble. I let go of these Fred and Hermione, who love each other and don't need me here anymore. <br/>Thank you so much to those who followed and loved the story, your words were so much. <br/>See you soon, <br/>Zoesiapie❤</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: This story is a translation, something I'm not so good at. If there are any errors, please let me know ❤.</p><p>I know, yet another Fremione.<br/>I admit, it's addictive, writing about the two of them is one of the things that makes me happy when I'm feeling suffocated. That's why I have little shame about it, knowing that I can never leave them.<br/>I hope you enjoyed the chapter,<br/>Zoesiapie ❤</p></blockquote></div></div>
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